


And I Feel Fine

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Series: Every Little Thing Is Gonna Be All Right [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clint Needs a Hug, For this though, Friendship, Maybe more later? - Freeform, One-Sided Attraction, Other, Pining, Tagging this one is hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-26 20:28:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6254740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint's been pining for Phil for years, but Phil isn't social enough or apparently interested in anyone enough for it to go anywhere. After an op leaves Clint injured, Phil takes him home and Clint finds out why.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Feel Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JHSC](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JHSC/gifts).



> This is for a prompt by JHSC, who simply asked me one question. This is one of those stories where I could tag more thoroughly, but it would give away the surprise. And thanks also to Kyler, who gave me the injury suggestion (that I totally love and am gonna use again in some other story)!
> 
> If you think I should anyway, please let me know. It's not a traumatic surprise and I don't think any triggers apply.

Clint knows that men and women who can handle their shit lights his fire hot and fast, so he realizes that he’s doomed when it comes to Phil Coulson within a month of working with the man. It took one month of seeing Coulson show competencies Clint didn’t even realize he had kinks for to know Phil Coulson lit Clint up like a bonfire, and Clint had to get very practiced at dousing those sparks very quickly when it happened. Three months after they started working together he wondered if he should ask for a different team, but he discovered something else really startling about Phil Coulson.

Clint really liked him as a person. He hadn’t really liked anyone since he was a kid.

He’d been a solo act for all of his adult life when he arrived at SHEILD, and the training academy and his first year on rotation as a Specialist were nothing short of grating. When he was assigned to Phil Coulson as a permanent handler, the guy was like a balm to Clint’s nerves and attitude. The trust he bestowed on Clint was addicting. Clint worked harder than he ever had before, just so he could keep that trust. He was also funny, kind, and the most empathic person Clint had ever known.

When Clint realized he craved Phil’s company as well as his body, he went to the range and shot his bow until his shoulders were shaking with the effort. He still had to take a cold shower when he got back to his room to dim the feeling of need and want that realization brought.

He wanted to go out with Phil after work the way he went out with Woo and Sitwell and Hill. He wanted to watch movies on his couch with him or even go to dinner and a movie and see where it took him. He knew enough about Phil to know he was pretty fluid in his sexuality (he’d bruised his hand to hell slamming his fist into the wall after a mission where they’d had to pretend to be lovers), but he also knew Phil was the least social guy at SHIELD and didn’t really seem interested in hanging around anyone outside of work.

Phil would occasionally join Clint and Sitwell and the others for a drink or a few games of pool, but that was a rarity everyone enjoyed. Clint had asked about going to dinner once, but Phil had given him a sheepish smile and said he had a prior commitment. Clint cornered Sitwell one night after he’d had a drink or two too many about it and Sitwell, after laughing hysterically over Clint’s clear crush, had shrugged and said that Phil never seemed interested in anyone and Clint shouldn’t take it personally.

Phil was clearly content on his own. Too bad Clint’s heart wouldn’t listen.

He took Phil coffee when he had a free minute. He dropped by and offered to help with extra paperwork if he was cleared for it. He made damned sure his paperwork was always on time and clear. He kept asking Phil to dinner without really pestering, and once or twice Phil did accept it. Clint bribed Hill with homemade soups (his specialty) for six Sundays in a row to get her to tell him Phil’s birthday month, and made him three different kinds of soup and a tray of cupcakes that disappeared alarmingly fast. He texted Phil while he watched Patriots football on Sundays and they bantered back and forth most of the game even though Phil turned down Clint’s few offers to go watch it together somewhere.

In short, Clint took what he could get.

“Phil,” Clint said, trying very hard to keep his voice even and not succeeding at all, “Can I please go home?” He watched as Phil blew out a long breath and pressed his lips together as he stood next to Clint’s bed in Medical.

“I’m working on it, Clint,” he said, and Clint closed his eyes at the warmth in Phil’s voice.

He was tired enough to try and hold onto that warmth as something other than it was – a friend worried, a friend wanting to help. Phil leaned over and handed him a cup of mostly melted ice chips, and he ignored Clint’s shaking hand and held the cup for him. He swallowed and leaned back again. “I really want to go home.”

Phil only nodded and pressed his hand to Clint’s arm in reassurance, and when Clint blinked away the cobwebs threatening again Phil wasn’t standing there anymore. He was sitting in a chair a few feet from the bed, frowning again. “It would be easier to get you home if you didn’t keep passing out.”

Clint groaned. “Again?”

“Twenty minutes this time,” Phil said with a shrug, and he stood again and held the cup of water out for Clint again. “I have a solution, though,” he added with a small smile.

“Yeah?” Clint would take anything.

“Yeah,” Phil replied, and he pulled Clint’s chart from the end of the bed and flipped through it as he spoke. “We know you’re not in any real danger since we found the toxin and all the research tied to it in the HYDRA lab your team took out. Their goons just got in a lucky shot with their modified tranq gun. The toxin’s been neutralized and the medication we have is a dependable antidote.”

Clint nodded, “Right, but they won’t let me go while I’m still passing out once every couple hours?”

Phil sighed. “Exactly. They’re a bit concerned with your level of exhaustion, too.” He paused. “I’d rather not rely on your erratically nosy neighbors to find you in time if you crack your head on your kitchen counter while mainlining coffee.”

Clint huffed. “I doubt I’d mainline it in my condition. I might even get a mug.”

“Do you own a mug?”

“I’ll bet my nosy neighbors do,” Clint said, and then he had to close his eyes again.

“Clint?” Phil asked.

“I’m okay,” Clint answered, keeping his eyes closed. His body felt like a wheelbarrow full of bricks.

“So I have a solution,” Phil reminded him.

Clint opened his eyes.

“Come home with me,” Phil said, and he said it like he knew what a big deal that offer was, like he knew Clint’s heart and years-long crush was still clinging to the idea of Phil outside of work.

“I don’t even know where you live,” was all Clint managed to say.

Phil laughed. “It’s a bit of a drive, but,” he hesitated, and Clint had never heard Phil hesitate like that before. “I could look after you. The doctor said as long as I check in with her tomorrow morning and keep track of your . . . episodes, it would be okay.”

Clint nodded. “She called them episodes? Really?”

Phil chuckled. “Like a Tennessee Williams play.”

“Are you sure it would be okay?” Clint managed to ask. He wanted to say that it wasn’t necessary, that he’d just stay in the hospital and Phil could keep his privacy, but the words wouldn’t come. Phil was offering to take care of him. When Phil smiled and nodded in assurance, all Clint could say was, “Okay, thanks.”

After Phil went and grabbed a duffel bag from Clint’s quarters and ushered him cautiously to his car, Clint dozed all the way to Phil’s place, which turned out to be a small rental house about forty minutes out of the city. They pulled into a very normal-looking driveway on a very normal-looking tree-lined street, and Phil sat without turning the engine off and looked over at Clint with intensity in his eyes.

“Are you awake?” he asked first.

“Yeah, sorry for being rotten company,” Clint said, rubbing his hand over his face.

Phil smiled. “It’s okay. Look, I just wanted to tell you that I was going to invite you out here next month anyway, and I’m sorry it’s taken so long for me to bring you to my home. You’re my good friend and I should’ve done this a long time ago.”

For some reason, all Clint could latch onto was, “What’s next month?”

“My birthday.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s okay. I know you like your privacy,” Clint replied. Phil was acting the way Clint was pretty sure he’d be feeling if he weren’t coming down off of an experimental HYDRA drug. Nervous.

Phil was waiting, like Clint should be saying something else, but Clint was having a hard time following, and the house looked really inviting. It was a small, grey bungalow with white shutters and an old, oak door. The veranda was stained with whitewash, and there were three old, oak rocking chairs to the left of the front door.

“I do like my privacy,” Phil said with a deep sigh, and now he turned the car off. “But you’re my friend and you should have known where I live, and a few other things about me.”

Clint blinked and yawned. “Sorry,” he said around his hand. “Your house looks really comfortable.”

Phil nodded, and he climbed out of the car. He grabbed Clint’s duffel from the back seat and came around to put a hand on Clint’s elbow as he stood up. Clint found himself leaning on Phil more than he’d done at SHIELD, but he’d been in bed for the last day and a half, to be fair. As Phil wrapped his hand around Clint’s waist to help him more with the concrete steps to the porch, he stopped Clint at the top. “Hey, just so you know, I don’t live alone.”

Clint heard the words, but processing them was harder than it should be. “You don’t?” he asked, because Phil just said he had a housemate. Or something. “Do you have a dog?” he added, because he definitely heard barking.

The front door opened and a small, black Scotty dog squeezed its way out to Phil and barked at Clint. Clint really likes dogs, and normally would have bent over to try and make friends, but he was distracted by the beautiful woman with a toddler in her arms, standing in the doorway.

She had long dark hair and sparkling brown eyes, and she was smiling at Phil and Clint, and she had the most adorable dimples Clint had ever seen. She looked at Clint like he was a gift, and when she leaned over and took the duffel bag from Phil’s hand and pressed a quick kiss to Phil’s cheek, Clint blinked, hard.

“Clint,” Phil said gently. “This is Laura, my wife.”

Clint passed out again.

              


End file.
